More Tales from the Silver Forest
by Tiger Lily21
Summary: Short stories and fairy tale retellings I've created during a dry spell on my larger works.  Now contains stories from NaNoWriMo 2010!  Updated 11-1-10.
1. The Three Billy Goats Gruff

**More Tales from the Silver Forest**

**by: Tiger Lily21**

**A/N: I hate to admit it, but I didn't write much this summer, or during September. I've hit a dry spot. I have enough to do at school that I was content to ignore that dry spot for a while longer...until tonight. I got a PM from the lovely Delia Anole asking me to please come back to life on . I've run into a brick wall on The Crystal Rose, but I couldn't deprive Delia of my writing any longer (she asked so nicely!) Therefore, I went through my summer writing files (meager as they were) and found four stories. Here is the first one, a retelling of the classic fairy tale "The Three Billy Goats Gruff". I might consider turning this one into a picture book one day, if I can find an illustrator. I think it's a bucket of fun. :-)  
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**(Just so you know, the text isn't as awesome as it could be. In the original word document, I had the goats' speech typed in the size font appropriate for their size in the story. It doesn't have nearly the same effect on here...I hope you like it anyways.) **

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**The Three Billy Goats Gruff**

Once upon a time, in a green valley split by a wide river, there lived three billy goats whose last name was Gruff. Their first names were Teeny-Tiny, Just-About-Medium, and Super-Extra Large, because that's how big they were. Teeny-Tiny was very small, Just-About-Medium was average sized, and Super-Extra-Large was the biggest of the three.

Now these three goats lived happily on one side of the river that split the green valley. They ate the beautiful green grass and drank from the clear river, and played together all day long. They were convinced that the grass on their side of the river would last them for many years, which was good, because crossing to the other side was a difficult thing. You see, there was only one bridge on this river, and a terrible troll guarded it and lived underneath. Every day, the troll would listen for the sound of someone walking over his bridge—trip, trap, trip, trap. When he heard footsteps, he would wait until the person reached the middle of the bridge. Then he would leap out of the water and onto the bridge in front of the person and say, "Who's that trip-trapping over my bridge?" He would give the person a chance to answer, for he liked to know whom he was eating. Then he would grab the person and jump back over the side of the bridge to eat his catch.

Naturally, the goats were frightened of the troll, and they did not like to think what would happen if they ever tried to cross the bridge to get to the grass on the other side. They hoped the grass on their side would be enough, but eventually it began to run out. The goats were faced with a terrible choice: try to cross the bridge and risk being eaten by the troll, or starve to death on their side of the river.

Teeny-Tiny, who was the bravest of the three, said in his teeny-tiny voice, "I think we should cross the bridge. That troll doesn't scare me!"

Just-About-Medium, who was the cleverest of the three, said in his medium voice, "We can't just try to cross. He'll eat you up, Teeny-Tiny, even though you're so small. If we plan to cross the bridge, we must have a plan."

Super-Extra-Large, who was the strongest of the three, said in his extra large voice, "Let me go first. When that troll climbs up on the bridge to catch me, I will butt him with my great horns and knock him into the river so that he'll be washed away."

Teeny-Tiny thought that was a very good idea, but Just-About-Medium was still thinking. "The troll is very quick," he said in his medium voice. "You may not have time to butt him as he jumps up, Super-Extra-Large. But if Teeny-Tiny and I can trick him into letting us cross first, then you will have a chance to surprise him and knock him over."

He explained a plan he had come up with. Teeny-Tiny and Super-Extra-Large agreed that it was a very clever plan, and the goats decided to put it into action the very next morning.

Just after dawn, Teeny-Tiny headed for the bridge. Trip, trap, trip, trap, went his little hooves on the wood. As soon as he reached the middle, the troll leapt onto the bridge. "Who's that trip-trapping over my bridge?" he roared.

Teeny-Tiny shivered in fear, only half faked. "It is I, the smallest billy goat Gruff, Teeny-Tiny," he said in his teeny-tiny voice. "Please don't eat me, Mr. Troll!"

The troll grinned a terrible grin and reached down with a terrible hand to pick up Teeny-Tiny by his horns. "Why shouldn't I?" he asked. "You look like a tasty little morsel."

"That's just it, sir," said Teeny-Tiny. "I'm only a little morsel. But my brother is coming in just a few minutes, and he is larger than I am. He would make a much better meal. Why don't you put me down and let me go across, and then you can eat my brother when he comes?"

The troll thought about that for a long time—so long that Teeny-Tiny's horns began to hurt from being held in the troll's big stony fist—and then he set the littlest goat down. "Go on," he said, leaping over the bridge. "I'll eat your brother instead."

Teeny-Tiny waited until the troll disappeared under the bridge again before continuing on his way across the bridge to the field of beautiful green grass.

That was the signal for Just-About-Medium to start crossing the bridge. Trip, trap, trip, trap went his hooves on the wood of the bridge. As soon as he reached the middle, the troll leaped up before him. "Who's that trip-trapping over my bridge?" he demanded.

"It is I, Just-About-Medium, the middle sized billy goat Gruff," said Just-About-Medium in his medium sized voice, quivering in fear that was only half faked. "Please don't eat me, Mr. Troll."

"Why shouldn't I?" asked the troll, for he could see that this goat was bigger than the first one and would make a very fine meal. He picked up Just-About-Medium by his horns and held him in the air so he could get a better look at him. "You look like a tasty morsel—just the right size to eat, I think."

"That's just it, though," said Just-About-Medium. "I'm only medium sized—regular. My brother is coming in a few minutes, and he's the oldest and largest of us all. He would be a feast for a troll like you."

The troll started to drool at the thought of a feast and he set Just-About-Medium back down on the bridge. "Very well," he said, licking his lips. "I'll wait for your brother."

He started to leap over the side of the bridge, but Just-About-Medium said, "Why not stay on the bridge to wait for him? Then you can just catch him right away and not waste time jumping up and talking to him."

The troll considered this for a long time, and finally decided that it was a good idea. He stepped to one side so that Just-About-Medium could pass. The medium sized goat crossed over to the other side and joined his smaller brother, and they stood in the green grass to watch their bigger brother begin crossing the bridge. The troll stood in the middle of the bridge and waited too.

Super-Extra-Large did not bother trip trapping across the bridge. He ran at it full speed—BAMMITY BAMMITY BAM!—and smashed into the troll with his great horned head—

THUD!

The troll was so surprised that he toppled over the side of the bridge. The river's current caught him and swept him away before he could do anything. Then Super-Extra-Large walked the rest of the way over the bridge—Trip, trap, trip, trap—and joined his brothers in the beautiful green grass. They stayed on the other side of the valley for many years, and when the grass on that side ran out, they crossed the bridge back to the other side to eat the grass that had grown there. They never had trouble crossing the bridge again, for the troll never returned and no other trolls took up residence underneath. And so the three billy goats Gruff lived happily ever after.


	2. Katie Crackernuts

**More Tales from the Silver Forest**

**by: Tiger Lily21**

**A/N: The second story in this collection is a retelling of a lesser-known fairy tale. I have kept the original title and most of the original plot, tweaking things only to make them more realistic. I did change one other thing-one of the sisters' names. In the original tale, her name was Anne. I have called her Emma for the simple reason that my name is Anne, and I don't like putting my name in stories if I can help it. It's too tempting to turn myself into a character. So the sisters are Emma and Kate. I hope you like them. **

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**Katie Crackernuts**

Once upon a time there were two girls who were best friends. Their names were Emma and Kate. Emma was a princess and the prettier of the two. She had curly blonde hair and lovely blue eyes and a beautiful smile. Kate was the daughter of Emma's governess. She was still pretty, but not as pretty as Emma. She had straight brown hair and hazel eyes, and there were freckles on her nose. They didn't care much about who was prettier, though. They loved each other as sisters, and promised to stick by each other forever and ever.

Now Emma's father the king was a widower, and Kate's mother was a widow. One day they decided that it would be lovely if their parents could get married, so that they could really be sisters. So Kate talked to her mother about how kind the king was, and how nice it would be if she had a father again, and Emma said almost the same thing to her father, except about having a mother again. Kate's mother was an ambitious woman. She liked the idea of being queen. It didn't take much to convince her. But the king was stubborn and still missed his wife. It took a great deal of effort on Emma's part to get him to agree to at least talk with Kate's mother and see what she thought. At last she convinced him and the two parents began spending time together.

It didn't take long after that. Kate's mother was able to convince the king that he should marry again and that she should be his next wife, and after three months the king gave in. They were married. Emma and Kate were bridesmaids and they loved it. After the wedding, when their parents went away for their honeymoon, the two sisters danced around and around in delight. They were real sisters at last!

Unfortunately, the happiness could not last. The king and his new queen returned from their honeymoon and the queen realized that her daughter was not as pretty as Princess Emma. She felt that wasn't fair, and decided to do something to make Kate prettier. She went to the old henwife at the castle, who was known to dabble in magic, and asked her what she could do. The henwife cackled.

"Send me Princess Emma tomorrow morning before breakfast," she said. "I'll have her look into my cauldron. The potion I'll brew in there will steal away all her beauty. I'll bottle it up and then you can give it to your daughter."

The queen thanked her and left. The next morning she sent Emma down to the henwife before breakfast. On her way, Emma slipped into the kitchens to beg a muffin from the cook. She munched on it as she walked to the henwife's hut. When she got there, the henwife ushered her in and asked her to lift the lid to the cauldron in the corner and see if the contents were boiling. Emma did so and saw a glass-smooth green liquid sitting in the cauldron. "Nothing's happening," she said to the henwife.

"Idiot girl," muttered the henwife. Then louder she said, "You'd better go back and tell your stepmother it's not ready yet."

Emma agreed and left (she didn't hear the henwife call her an idiot or she would have been very mad).

When Emma told her stepmother what the henwife had said, the queen was angry. She went to the henwife and demanded to know why it hadn't worked.

"The girl must have eaten something," said the henwife. "The potion only works if she's got an empty stomach."

So the next morning, the queen sent Emma to the henwife again, and told her explicitly not to eat anything on her way there, for she would spoil her breakfast. Emma obediently didn't go through the kitchens to get any food. She did find a few nuts in her cloak pocket, left over from a day spent picking nuts with Kate. She ate them contentedly, assuring herself that a few nuts would not spoil her breakfast.

When she got to the henwife's hut, the henwife asked her again to lift the lid on the cauldron. Again nothing happened. The henwife sent her back to the queen, who stormed out to the hut to find out why the spell still hadn't worked. "Bring her here yourself tomorrow morning and don't let her eat anything," said the henwife. "And if it fails again this time don't ask for another try."

The next morning the queen woke Emma when it was just barely light out and told her they were going to visit the henwife. She hurried her out of the castle and to the hut so quickly that Emma had no chance to eat anything. When they got there, the henwife asked Emma to lift the lid on the cauldron. This time when she did, the green potion inside began boiling furiously and hot steam rose up and covered Emma's face completely. She cried out in surprise and maybe a bit in pain (it was very hot steam) and stepped away from the cauldron. The henwife and the queen both smirked when they saw her face. The magic steam had taken away all her beauty. Her golden curls had turned limp and mouse-colored. Her blue eyes were a cloudy grayish-brown. Her skin was covered in freckles and pimples. She was excessively plain.

Emma soon caught sight of her face in the mirror on the hut wall (placed there for just this purpose) and cried out in horror at the sight of her plain face. Then she fled the hut, leaving her cruel stepmother and the henwife behind.

Kate saw her sister running across the grounds from her bedroom window and ran down to meet her. She was surprised to see Emma's plain face, but not surprised to hear how it had happened. She knew her mother had always disliked Emma's being prettier.

"Don't worry, dearest," she said to Emma. "We'll fix this. We'll go away on a quest and find someone who can help us. And we won't come back until you're as beautiful as you were before."

"I don't care about being beautiful," said Emma, sniffling (for she had a good heart as well as a pretty face, and no potion could change that). "I never cared about it."

"I know," said Kate, "but I won't let you keep that nasty spell on you. Who knows what else it might do to you? My mother's done you a wrong, and I'm going to make it right. That's what sisters do."

She wrapped Emma in a cloak with a hood, so that her face was mostly hidden, packed a bag for each of them, and wrote a note to her mother and stepfather explaining what had happened and what she intended to do about it.

They set off that afternoon, riding along the royal road together. Although Kate called it an adventure, she didn't really intend it to be much of one. Being princesses, they had enough gold to stay at inns and eat good food every day. In every town they stayed in, Kate told people that her sister was ill and that she was looking for a doctor or a magician who could help her. At first they had no luck. Then, after a week of traveling, an innkeeper told them about a local lord who had two sons. One was a great magician and the other was a great scholar. One of them might be able to help. Kate thanked the innkeeper and she and Emma headed for the lord's manor.

They arrived at dusk and knocked on the door. A servant answered and invited them in to talk to the lord. Kate was surprised to find him very melancholy. Being a kind-hearted lass, she put her own problems aside and asked him about his troubles. The lord was glad to tell her, for it is always easier to have a problem when you have someone to share it with. It seemed that his older son, the magician, had come down with a strange illness. He was weak and tired during the week, and seemed to have a fever. But on Friday evenings, he was full of energy and purpose, and he would leave his room and vanish for the night, returning at dawn just as bad as he'd been the morning before. The lord's younger son, the scholar, had been doing some research to try to figure out what ailed his brother, but he was unable to discover anything.

Kate felt sorry for the lord and his sons, and she offered him a deal. She would find out what was wrong with his older son and cure him if she could, if the lord and his younger son would try to help her sister in return. The lord agreed. Kate left Emma in the care of the lord and his younger son, whose name was Cedric, and went to the older son's bedchamber.

The older son was named Darren and he might have been handsome if he hadn't been so ill. He lay on his bed with his eyes closed. His dark hair was growing too long and hung limply around his sweaty, pale face. He was thin and feverish, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Kate sat down by his bedside and spoke softly to him.

"My name is Kate," she said, "and I'm going to help you."

She told him many other things as well—about her life and her sister and her dreams. He didn't seem to hear any of it. She asked a servant for cool clothes and water, which she used to bathe his sweaty brow. She also asked for something to do while she sat there. One of the servants brought her a big bushel of nuts to crack, and Kate sat and cracked them by Darren's bedside and spoke to him.

It was Thursday that day, but Kate did not feel right letting herself sleep too much while she watched over Darren. She did eventually slip into slumber, though, and woke the next morning to find her patient lying exactly as he had been, eyes half-shut. She called for a servant and asked for breakfast for Darren and herself, but the servant said that Sir Darren never took much breakfast anymore. He could barely manage a thin bit of gruel and a cup of weak tea. Privately Kate wondered if this might be part of the problem, but she allowed the servant to bring that up.

Darren was a bit more alert after he ate, and talked a bit with Kate in a weak voice. In spite of his illness, she found him quite nice and promised again that she would help him. Darren gave her a bit of advice.

"No matter what happens tonight," he said, "you must stick right with me. I don't remember where I go or what I do, but I know I do it very quickly and if you don't keep up you'll lose me."

Kate promised to stay as close to him as she could and the day went on. Darren had only a thin broth for lunch and dinner. Kate cracked more nuts for the kitchens (the cook was very glad to have somebody in the house to manage all of them) and they continued talking.

Night fell and Darren slipped into an uneasy sleep. Kate forced herself to stay awake, for she was sure that the hour when Darren changed and left the house was coming. Sure enough, as the clock struck ten he sat up straight and climbed out of bed. He dressed himself in his finest clothes, which did not really fit him now, for he had grown so thin. Once he was dressed, he left the room at a brisk walk. Kate immediately set down her nuts and nutcracker and followed him.

Darren left the manor and went to the stables. There he saddled his horse. Kate saddled her own mare as well and rode after him into the night. He gallopped north as fast as he could, toward an enormous green hill. Kate followed close behind. Suddenly they were at the foot of the hill. Darren reined in his horse and called out, "Open, open, great green door, for the young lord and his noble steed!"

"And his lady and hers as well!" called Kate on the end of his speech. She had no intention of being left behind.

A door in the hillside opened. Darren rode in. Kate followed quickly, and the door swung shut as soon as her horse's tail was through. Then Kate discovered exactly what was ailing Darren.

They were in the Faerie Court. I cannot even begin to describe the bright lights or the beautiful music or the delicious smells of that place. Kate watched as Darren dismounted and allowed the faeries to pull him into the frantic dance. She dismounted as well and hid in the shadows, not wanting to get caught in the faerie spell as well. She stayed in one spot as Darren and the faeries whirled and twirled to the wild music.

As she sat in her shadowy corner, Kate saw two faeries leave the dance floor. They came to stand quite close to her, but did not appear to notice her. Instead they laughed together. "What a fine trick our queen played on that foolish lord's son," said the first faerie. "He will come here and dance every night until he kills himself!"

"Many a mortal has done the same," replied the other faerie. He and his companion burst into laughter again.

(I must apologize for these faeries. They were quite rude, and Kate felt her temper rising as she sat in the corner and listened to them. But faeries are not human and some of them—particularly the northern faeries—think of human beings as stupid, gullible creatures meant for them to play with. The trick they'd played on Darren was their idea of a fine prank, especially since he was such a powerful magician. Faeries are not particularly fond of magicians.)

The first faerie stopped laughing after a moment, though her face was still mirthful. "The best part of the trick is the way he could get out of it, I think," she said. "If he just ate a bit of roasted chicken from his own kitchens and shared it with the lady of his heart, our queen's spell would break. But he's so tired and ill when he returns each day that he doesn't have an appetite and so no one thinks to feed him chicken or anything else. And he doesn't know the lady of his heart has been sitting at his bedside cracking nuts!"

The other faerie laughed again. "Aye," he said. "What fools mortals are!"

In the shadows, Kate's anger was slowly replaced with glee. "Mortals may be fools," she said under her breath, "but not such fools as you. You've told me how to cure him and I shall."

She stayed where she was until a distant clock chimed three and the faerie dance ended. Darren went back to his horse then and Kate followed close behind. They rode out of the hill and back to the lord's manor. Darren undressed and then collapsed on his bed, exhausted and ill from his night of dancing. Kate took her spot by the bed again and began cracking nuts once more.

"Well, Sir Darren," she said, "we've had quite a night. I've learned how to cure you now. And once you are well, you can help cure my sister."

She patted his hand gently and called for a servant. "Go and roast a chicken," she said, "and send it up for Sir Darren's lunch today."

"But he's too ill to manage chicken," protested the servant.

"Do as I say," said Kate, "for it's the only thing to get him well."

The servant left to obey and Kate went back to cracking nuts. She sat there all morning and talked to Darren. At noon, the servant brought in the roast chicken. It was beautifully cooked and smelled delicious. The moment the scent hit Darren's nose, he sat up in bed a bit and looked much more attentive than he had.

"Is that for me?" he asked Kate.

"Yes," she said. "We're to share it." She carved the chicken and gave him a piece, then took a piece for herself. They both took a bite.

"Mm!" cried Darren. "This is wonderful!" He continued eating. Kate noticed his cheeks were filling with color and his eyes were growing brighter. They ate as much of the chicken as they could. By the time the servant came to take it away, Darren was looking healthier than he had for months and feeling completely better.

Kate and Darren spent the rest of the afternoon together. Darren explained how he'd gotten mixed up with the faeries in the first place. He'd seen the faerie queen in disguise as he rode along the moors and pursued her, for she was quite beautiful. She'd gotten annoyed with him and cast the spell on him. In turn, Kate told him about how she'd followed him and overheard how to cure him. She blushed furiously at the part about "the lady of his heart". Darren smiled at her and took her hands in his.

"I don't suppose you'd consider yourself that now, Katie Crackernuts?" he asked, his eyes shining.

Kate blushed even more, but had to admit that she did not mind being the lady of his heart. The conversation took a turn away from magic and faeries after that.

Kate and Darren joined his father and brother, along with Emma, for supper that night. The lord was delighted to see Darren well, and Kate was surprised and delighted to see Emma completely cured as well. It seemed that Cedric had found a simple cure for the potion and they had tried it around the same time that Kate had given Darren the chicken. Kate told her story again, and Darren told his father that he'd chosen Kate as the lady of his heart. It was not really surprising that Cedric had chosen Emma for his that same afternoon.

There's not much more to tell now. The sisters spent another month with the brothers, making plans and promises for the future. Then Kate and Emma rode back to their father's court to inform him of their betrothals. They discovered there that the king had put the queen and the nasty henwife in prison for putting the curse on Emma. He was delighted that both of his daughters had found true love and approved of their future husbands. They were married soon afterwards.


	3. Little Red Riding Hood

**More Tales of the Silver Forest**

**by: Tiger Lily21**

**A/N: Here is yet another take on a traditional fairy tale. I've never liked "Little Red Riding Hood" all that much, but I wanted to give it a try this summer. It sticks mostly to the traditional plot, but I put in my own twist near the end. I'm not completely happy with it (when is any writer ever completely happy with her work?) but it will do. I hope you enjoy it.**

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**Little Red Riding Hood**

Once upon a time, a little girl lived with her mother in a village on the edge of a forest. She was a very pretty girl, with red hair, big brown eyes and freckles all over her face. For her tenth birthday, her grandmother—who lived in the middle of the woods—had made her a beautiful red riding cape with a hood. It was long enough that she could grow into it, and by the time she was twelve, it fit her perfectly. The girl loved it so much that she would not take it off except to sleep. The people of the village got so used to seeing her wear it that they started calling her "Little Red Riding Hood", or "Red" for short.

One day, Red's mother gave her a basket with a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a lovely little cake. "I want you to take this to your grandmother," she said. "You know she's been ill, and this will make her feel much better. And she always likes getting a visit from you. Just remember to be safe on the way there."

"Of course I will, Mama," said Red. She loved to visit her grandmother. "Can I stay the night with Grandmamma? Please?"

"Of course, dear," said her mother. "I don't like the idea of you walking back so far on your own, especially in the evening. Now remember—stay on the path and don't talk to strangers. Go straight to Grandmama's. Oh! And watch out for wolves. Your father told me there's been a pack of them spotted in the forest lately. You don't want to get eaten up."

"I'll be very careful, Mama," said Red. She took the basket and skipped out the door.

It was a bright sunny day, and even in the dark forest, the light shone through the leaves. Red skipped along, looking at all the lovely plants and flowers on the sides of the path and thinking of her grandmother. She imagined the look on the old woman's face when she came in and gave her the food from her mother.

She was so engrossed in her own thoughts and daydreams that she did not see the wolf until he spoke to her.

"Hello, miss," he said charmingly. "Where are you headed this fine day?"

Red jumped in surprise and nearly dropped her basket. "Oh!" she cried. "Who are you?"

The wolf bowed his head at her. "I'm a wolf."

Red shrank back, remembering her mother's warning. "A wolf?"

"Oh don't be alarmed, my dear," said the wolf. "I mean you no harm. I'm only curious to see someone else on this path. I haven't seen you here before."

"I haven't seen you here either," said Red, charmed by his fine manners and kind words.

"I'm new to the neighborhood," said the wolf. "What's your name, my dear?"

"Little Red Riding Hood," she said. "But everyone just calls me Red."

"Red," said the wolf. "That's a fine name. And so fitting, with your lovely red cape and your beautiful red hair. You're a lovely little girl."

"Thank you, Mr. Wolf," said Red.

"You're very welcome, Miss Red. Now tell me where are you off to today?"

"I'm going to visit my grandmother. She's sick, and Mama sent me with some food for her."

The wolf grinned a wide grin. "That is very kind of you, Miss Red. I'm sure she will like that very much. Does she live just up this path?"

"Yes," said Red. "You follow the path until you get to a lovely little cottage with a vegetable garden in front and a rose trellis on the side. It's the prettiest house I've ever seen."

"It sounds lovely," said the wolf. "I would like to see it. May I walk with you?"

At this, Red hesitated. She remembered her mother's warning about talking with strangers. In spite of his good manners, she had just met the wolf, and she was sure her grandmother would not approve of her bringing him along.

"I'm afraid my grandmother would not like it," she said.

The wolf hung his head. "Are you quite certain?" he asked, looking at her with great eyes. "I do not wish to go into the house, only to see it. You made it sound so lovely. Surely I could come with you on the path and then turn around after we reach the cottage."

"I…I suppose that would be all right," said Red slowly, "as long as you leave before I go in. My grandmother might see you and I don't think she likes wolves."

"Few people do," said the wolf. "Mine is a lonely, lonely life. I have no friends but my pack, and they are not as interesting as humans. I find your species quite…fascinating."

Red smiled at him. He was charming and friendly. She could not imagine why her mother would have warned her about wolves. If they were all as friendly as this one, then there was no need to worry about them. This wolf would never eat her up. He was too much of a gentleman.

"We should start walking if we want to get to Grandmother's house before dark," she said.

"Very well," said the wolf. He moved aside to allow her to begin walking and then fell in step with her. They walked on together and the wolf told Red about his pack. She found everything he said fascinating, and laid a hand on his back as they walked.

They had been walking for a good while when the wolf stopped. "Look, Miss Red," he said. "What lovely wildflowers. I'm sure your grandmother would love a bouquet of them to cheer her up."

"Oh yes," said Red eagerly, looking at the brightly colored flowers. "Grandmother loves flowers! Do you think it would be all right for me to pick some?"

"Of course," said the wolf. "These flowers are for everyone. Go on and pick a beautiful bouquet. I'll wait here for you."

Red eagerly left the path to pick flowers. The blossoms seemed to get more and more beautiful as she went further and further away from the path. She did not turn around to see if the wolf was still waiting for her, and by the time she had picked all the flowers she could carry, she was deep in the forest.

Meanwhile, the wolf had not waited for Red. As soon as she was a good distance into the forest, he bolted on up the path and raced for her grandmother's house. He intended to eat the old woman first, and then wait for the little girl and eat her as well. He had been telling the truth when he said he found humans fascinating. Every human he had eaten had tasted slightly different. He was eager to try old woman and young girl, which he had never tasted before.

The wolf soon reached the cottage Red had described. He padded up the steps and knocked on the door with his front paw. A high, scratchy voice came from the other side.

"Who is it?"

The wolf did his best to imitate Red's sweet young voice. "It's me, Grandmama," he said, "Little Red Riding Hood. I've brought you a basket of food and a lovely bouquet of flowers."

"Thank you, darling," said the voice from the other side of the door. "Go on and let yourself in. I'm so glad you've come."

The wolf rose up on his hind legs and pawed at the door until it opened. Then he ambled inside. He spotted the old woman immediately, lying in a bed and looking very pale and scrawny. She would not be much of a meal, he decided, but with Red coming behind, it would be enough. He bounded into the bedroom. The grandmother shrieked and leapt out of bed much faster than he had expected. She grabbed a heavy stick that was leaning by the wall and brandished it at him.

"You're not my granddaughter," she said. "Get out of my house, you beast, before I call the woodsman!"

The wolf laughed. "I won't leave until I've had a meal," he said.

"Then go raid the cupboards," said the grandmother. "There's plenty there to satisfy you, and it'll taste better than I do."

But the wolf was determined to have old woman for supper, and he charged at her. The grandmother bashed him on the head with her stick. He sat down hard and howled in pain. The grandmother took that chance to run behind him and into the next room. The wolf recovered a moment later and followed her, growling ferociously.

"You won't get me!" said the grandmother, and she scrambled up the ladder that led to her attic. The wolf could not climb the ladder, but he knew the grandmother would have to come down sooner or later.

"Stay up there, then," he snarled at her. "I'll have your precious granddaughter instead!"

The grandmother gasped. "No! You won't eat my Red!"

"Oh yes I will," said the wolf, and proceeded to tell her exactly how he planned to devour the little girl. The grandmother was so shocked at this that she fainted on the attic floor. The wolf smirked to himself and set about preparing a trap for Little Red Riding Hood. He was not about to let another tasty morsel slip from his jaws. He found the grandmother's spare nightgown and nightcap and put them on as best he could. Then he blew out half the candles so the cottage was dim and crawled into the grandmother's bed.

A little while later, there came a knock at the door. "Who is it?" he called in a passable imitation of the old woman's high, scratchy voice.

"It's me, Red, Grandmama," said Red from the other side of the door. "I've brought you a basket of food and a bouquet of wildflowers."

"How lovely," said the wolf in his grandmother voice. "Let yourself in and come back to see me, dear."

Red opened the door, suspecting nothing. The cottage was dim, lit only by a few candles. Still, she could see the shape of her grandmother in the bed. She set down her basket and flowers on the kitchen table and then walked to the bedside.

"How are you feeling, Grandmama?" she asked.

"Not so well," said the wolf. "I've great pains in my stomach."

"Oh dear," said Red. "Well, I'm sure the food that Mother sent will make you feel much better, and I'm to stay here with you for the night to keep you company."

"Thank you, dear," said the wolf.

"You're welcome, Grandmama," said Red, and looked into her grandmother's face. The candle light glittered off the wolf's large shiny eyes. "Why Grandmama!" said Red. "What large, shiny eyes you have."

"The better to see your pretty face," said the wolf.

Red looked up and saw a long pointed ear poking out of the crooked nightcap. "Why Grandmama," she said, beginning to get just a bit suspicious, "what long, pointy ears you have!"

"The better to hear your sweet voice," said the wolf.

Red looked even closer and noticed his great pointed teeth. "Grandmama," she said, stepping back from the bed, "what terrible pointed teeth you have!"

"The better to eat you with!" growled the wolf and lunged out of bed.

Red ran as fast as she could and screamed at the top of her lungs. The sound startled her grandmother back into consciousness. The old woman called to her from the attic. "Red! Up here, child! He can't climb the ladder!"

Red raced for the ladder, but the wolf was right behind her. She started to climb just as his jaws snapped at her heels. The edge of her beautiful cloak caught in his teeth. Red hurriedly untied it and let it fall. As the wolf struggled with the cloak in confusion, she managed to get the rest of the way up the ladder and into her grandmother's waiting arms.

"Oh Grandmama," she said, bursting into tears. "It's all my fault! I told him where to find your house, and I went off the path to pick you flowers. It's all, all, all my fault!"

"Hush, child," said her grandmother, stroking her red hair. "We'll find a way out of this. That wolf can't get us up here, and we're going to see to it that he doesn't try to eat anybody else either."

"How will we do it, Grandmama?" asked Red.

"I'm not sure," said her grandmother. "We can't go down the ladder, and neither of us could fight him even if we could get down. What we need is someone experienced at handling wolves and getting rid of them."

Red thought for a moment. Then she smiled. "I think I have an idea," she said, and whispered a plan in her grandmother's ear. The old woman grinned at her.

"I think that's absolutely perfect," she said.

A tense half hour passed in the cottage. The wolf paced the floor below the attic, waiting for the old woman and the girl to come down. Little did he know, Red was already gone from the cottage. She had scrambled out the attic window and climbed down the rose trellis on the side of the house. The grandmother stayed where she was and chattered loudly as if Red was there too. She was nearly as good at imitating her granddaughter's voice as the wolf was. He did not suspect a thing.

Just as the wolf was growing truly impatient and thinking of trying his luck climbing the ladder, the front door of the cottage burst open. A tall, burly woodsman ran in, axe raised and eyes blazing. "Get out of my mother's house, wolf!" he bellowed. "If I see you or any of your pack hunting humans in this wood again, I will slay you all!"

The wolf did not stay to fight the woodsman. He knew he would not stand a chance against the sharp blade of the ax. With his tail between his legs, he darted around the woodsman and bolted out of the cottage. Red, running up the path, moved to one side to let the gray-black blur pass her. Smiling slightly, she slowed to a walk and entered the cottage just as the woodsman—her father—was helping her grandmother down the attic ladder. Both of them embraced Little Red Riding Hood. Her father kissed the top of her head.

"You did a fine, brave thing coming to fetch me," he told her. "I'm very proud of you."

Red smiled. Her grandmother sighed and released her, hobbling back to the bedroom.

"Well, thank goodness that's over," she said, sitting down on her bed. "My old heart can't take much excitement these days. I think it's time I stopped living on my own and came to stay with you, son. That way I can see my Red every day and not worry about that awful wolf."

"We'll take you home with us tomorrow then, Mother," said her son. "Red can help you start packing now. I think I can manage to fix supper for us."

Red followed Grandmama back to the bedroom and opened the big trunk at the end of the bed. Then she went to the wardrobe and started pulling out clothes. Grandmama watched her. After a moment, she jumped out of the bed again and joined Red at the wardrobe. Looking into it, she said, "That furry scoundrel has run off with my spare nightclothes!"

Red laughed. From the kitchen, her father laughed too, and after a moment, Grandmama joined in.

"Oh well, I suppose it's a fine price to pay to be alive," she said. "Thank goodness we're all here safe and sound. That's what matters in the end."

Red agreed. After a few moments her father brought in the bread, cheese, and cake from the basket on a tray. Sitting and eating with her father and grandmother in the warmth of the little cottage, Little Red Riding Hood felt that she had grown up quite a lot that day. She was glad to be alive.


	4. Thumbelina Sketch

**More Tales from the Silver Forest**

**by: Tiger Lily21**

**A/N: This final piece is not a complete retelling, but a part of one that I will never finish. I was inspired by the scene in the animated Thumbelina movie where Thumbelina meets Prince Cornelius for the first time. I think I started writing it because the line "He was, without exception, the most beautiful person I had ever seen" popped into my head one night. I added the first paragraph tonight when I looked the sketch over again, and tweaked a few things. I seriously doubt I will ever expand this-there's an animated movie that pretty much tells the same story I would tell; I just put my own spin on a few things-but it was a lot of fun to write. I hope you like it. **

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**Thumbelina Sketch**

The moonlight spilled onto the windowsill and into my nutshell bed. I couldn't sleep with that light flowing in. I couldn't sleep in any case. Mother's stories were still running through my head. I crept out of my bed and into the puddle of moonlight. Looking at my reflection in the window, I imagined the fairy prince from the story book. I curtsied. "Your Highness." My imaginary prince bowed to me, and asked me to dance. "I'd be honored," I said. Humming to myself, I waltzed around the sill. The next time I turned back to the window, I saw something that startled me out of my pretending. On the other side of the window, exactly where I had imagined my fairy prince to stand, was a boy.

He was, without exception, the most beautiful person I had ever seen. Granted, I hadn't seen a lot of people, but of the ones I had seen, this boy—this man, for he was at least five years older than me—was the most beautiful one I'd ever come across. He had dark brown hair that was just a bit too long, so that he had to keep it pushed to one side so it didn't fall into his bright green eyes. There was a smattering of freckles on his nose and his cheeks. He had a strong chin and a wide smile that showed white teeth. He wore a green tunic and brown trousers, but his feet were bare. Like all people I had met, he was taller than me, but in his case it was only an inch or two instead of several feet. Most extraordinary of all were his wings. They were like moth's wings—a soft brown, with dark brown spots. They fluttered slightly behind him as he stood there just outside the window and stared in at me.

I could tell he was staring at me just as intensely as I was staring at him. We gazed at each other, me openmouthed and him smiling broadly. Then he leaned close to the windowpane and said, "Will you let me in?" I could barely hear him through the glass. I nodded, for I did not think he could hear me, and I did not want to wake Mother, and then I pulled open the little door Mr. Bertram had put into the glass for me so I could go out on the ledge.

The man clambered in through it and bowed low. I curtsied in return, and then blushed and looked down at my feet, embarrassed.

"Who are you?" my mysterious visitor asked in wonder. "I've never seen you before."

"My name is Thumbelina," I said, turning even redder (if that were possible). "Thumbelina Turner. I don't leave home much. Who are you?"

"Cornelius," he said. "Just Cornelius. Or Neil. I like Neil better."

"I'm Lina, then."

"Pleased to meet you, Lina," he said, bowing again.

"The pleasure is mine."

He smiled at me again, sending a thrill up and down my back. "I saw you dancing in the moonlight," he said. "You're very good."

"Thank you," I said. If my face grew any redder, it would catch on fire.

"Have you ever tried dancing with a partner?" he asked.

"I've never been able to find anyone else my size," I said. "Mother had Mr. Bertram carve a little doll for me to try dancing with, but I'm afraid Siegfried isn't much good at it." I gestured to Siegfried, who stood at his post by my bed, a wooden sentry.

"Would you dance with me?" Neil asked. "I promise I won't step on your feet."

"I'd love to dance with you," I said without thinking.

He grinned broadly and took my hands swiftly. We positioned ourselves correctly, and Neil began humming a tune—something I'd never heard before, a slow, sweet song that reminded me of flowers blooming and sunshine sparkling on the stream at the bottom of the garden. I followed my new friend in a dance that was almost like the waltz I knew, but with other steps thrown in—twirls and one thrilling moment where he put both hands on my waist and lifted me into the air. I felt like I was flying. His hands were warm and he smelled delightful. My head spun.

After what seemed like forever, we stopped. I did not move away from him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.

"Thank you for the dance," he said softly.

"Thank you."

"I'd like to see you again, if I might."

"You're welcome any night. I'll leave the window open for you a little bit. And maybe one night you would take me flying?"

"Tomorrow," he promised. "I'd take you tonight, but I need to go home. My mother tends to worry."

"So does mine," I said. "I'd better go to sleep."

"I hope you have beautiful dreams. Tell me about them tomorrow. I'll come at moonrise."

"I'll wait for you all day."

"Good night, Lina."

"Good night, Neil."

He kissed my cheek lightly and let me go. I stood frozen in place as he scrambled back out the window door and flew off into the night. Even after he'd gone, I stood there, dazzled by the kiss and the dance and the thought that I just might be falling in love with him.

My mother stirred in the next room and mumbled something in her sleep. The spell of Neil's kiss broke. I scrambled back to my nutshell bed and curled up under the quilt. I fell asleep quickly and dreamed of dancing with my new friend once more. The only difference was that this time I had wings as well—beautiful blue butterfly ones—and we were dancing in the air, far above a moonlit pond. It was the best dream I'd ever had, and I was sorry to wake up from it.


	5. The Gingerbread Man

**The Gingerbread Man**

**A Retelling by Tiger Lily21**

**A/N: This is the first piece in my NaNoWriMo anthology. (I find that writing short stories works much better for me than trying to write an actual novel for NaNoWriMo. Is it cheating? Maybe, but who cares as long as I get 50,000 words at the end of the month?) I wrote it in about an hour, and it's pretty similar to the traditional tale. The repetition was at once fun and annoying to write. I can see myself telling this to a group of first graders one day. Let me know what you think, and look tomorrow for another installment in this collection (hopefully...) **

**P.S. Any typos, grammar mistakes, etc. are because I did not edit this (NaNoWriMo rules). Let me know if you spot any glaring errors.  
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Once upon a time, a little old woman and a little old man lived together in a darling little cottage. They had no children, but they were quite happy together and loved each other very much. The little old man went out to the fields every day to work, and the little old woman stayed in their cottage to cook and clean and sew and mend. At the end of the day, the little old man would come home and they would have dinner together. The little old woman always tried to have some special treat for dessert, for the little old man had a sweet tooth.

One day, the little old woman decided to make a gingerbread man for dessert. She mixed up flour and sugar and cinnamon and molasses and all kinds of other good things in a bowl. Then she spread the dough on the counter and rolled it flat. She carefully cut out just the right shape and laid it on a cookie tray. Then she pressed on chocolate chips for the eyes, a piece of licorice for the mouth, and colorful chocolate candies for buttons. Then she put the tray with the gingerbread man into the oven and waited for it to bake.

The sweet smell of the gingerbread filled the little cottage. The little old woman smelled it and decided to check on the gingerbread man in the oven, just to see how he was coming along. Her recipe book said never to peek at the cookie before it was completely baked, but the little old woman couldn't resist. She opened the oven just a little crack and peeked in. The gingerbread man was turning golden brown. He looked delicious.

The little old woman started to close the oven door again. Before she could, the gingerbread man sat up on the tray and said, "Let me out! I'm burning up!"

The little old woman was so surprised that she let the oven door fall open. The gingerbread man jumped off the cookie tray and out of the oven. He ran to the door of the cottage and grinned at the little old woman with his licorice mouth. "Run, run, as fast as you can. You can't catch me—I'm the gingerbread man!" he chanted. And then, before the old woman could do or say anything at all, the gingerbread man raced out the cottage door and up the road. He ran and he ran and he ran, and the little old woman ran after him, but she couldn't catch the gingerbread man.

The little old woman and the gingerbread man reached the field where the little old man was working.

"What are you doing?" asked the little old man when he saw his wife. "And what is that delicious smell?"

"Oh husband," said the little old woman to the little old man, "I tried to make you a gingerbread man for dessert tonight, but he jumped out of the oven and ran away, and I can't catch him!"

The little old man smiled at his wife. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll catch him." And he set off up the road toward the gingerbread man.

But the gingerbread man just started running again. "I got away from the little old woman, and I will get away from you!" he said, laughing. "Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me—I'm the gingerbread man!"

The little old man ran as fast as he could, but the gingerbread man was faster. He ran and he ran and he ran, and the little old man ran after him, but he couldn't catch the gingerbread man.

The little old man and the gingerbread man reached another field, where a handsome young farmer was working. "Little old man, what are you doing?" the handsome young farmer. "And what is that delicious smell?"

"My wife tried to make me a gingerbread man for my dessert," said the little old man, "but he ran away from her and she couldn't catch him, and neither can I."

"Don't worry," said the handsome young farmer. "I'll catch him." And he set off up the road toward the gingerbread man.

But the gingerbread man just started running again. "I got away from the little old woman, and I got away from the little old man, and I will get away from you!" he said, his chocolate chip eyes almost twinkling. "Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me—I'm the gingerbread man!"

The handsome young farmer ran as fast as he could, but the gingerbread man was faster. He ran, and he ran, and he ran, and the handsome young farmer ran after him, but he couldn't catch the gingerbread man.

The handsome young farmer and the gingerbread man reached a barn, where a pretty milkmaid was milking her cow. "Handsome young farmer," she said, "what are you doing? And what is that delicious smell?"

"I am chasing the gingerbread man," said the handsome young farmer. "The little old woman made him for her husband, but he ran away, and neither she nor the little old man nor I could catch him."

"Don't worry," said the pretty milkmaid, "I'll catch him." And she set off up the road after the gingerbread man.

But the gingerbread man just started running again. "I got away from the little old woman, and I got away from the little old man, and I got away from the handsome young farmer, and I will get away from you!" he said, pausing to straighten a chocolate candy button. "Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me—I'm the gingerbread man!"

The pretty milkmaid ran as fast as she could, but the gingerbread man was faster. He ran and he ran and he ran, and the pretty milkmaid ran after him, but she couldn't catch the gingerbread man.

The pretty milkmaid and the gingerbread man reached a field where a big brown and white cow was grazing. "Pretty milkmaid, what are you doing?" asked the cow. "And what is that delicious smell?"

"I am trying to catch the gingerbread man," said the pretty milkmaid. "The little old woman made him, but she ran away from him, and neither she nor the little old man, nor the handsome young farmer, nor I could catch him."

"Don't worry," said the cow. "I'll catch him." And she set off up the road toward the gingerbread man.

But the gingerbread man just started running again. "I got away from the little old woman, and I got away from the little old man, and I got away from the handsome young farmer and I got away from the pretty milkmaid, and I will get away form you," he said, his licorice mouth wide. "Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me—I'm the gingerbread man!"

The brown and white cow ran as fast as she could, but the gingerbread man was faster. He ran and he ran and he ran, and the cow ran after him, but she couldn't catch him.

The brown and white cow and the gingerbread man reached a farm, where a fat pink pig stood in his sty. "Brown and white cow, what are you doing?" asked the pig. "And what is that delicious smell?"

"I am chasing a gingerbread man," said the brown and white cow. "The little old woman made it for the little old man, but the gingerbread man ran away, and neither she nor the little old man nor the handsome young farmer, nor the pretty milkmaid, nor I could catch him."

"Don't worry," said the pig. "I'll catch him." And he set off up the road toward the gingerbread man.

But the gingerbread man just started running again. "I got away from the little old woman, and I got away from the little old man, and I got away from the handsome young farmer, and I got away from the pretty milkmaid, and I got away from the big brown and white cow, and I will get away from you!" he said. "Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch me—I'm the gingerbread man!"

The pig ran as fast as he could, but the gingerbread man was faster. He ran and he ran and he ran, and the pig ran after him, but he couldn't catch the gingerbread man.

The gingerbread man reached the bank of a wide river, where a wily fox was sitting. The fox had been watching everything. He'd seen the gingerbread man running away from the little old woman and the little old man, and from the handsome young farmer and the pretty milkmaid, and from the big brown and white cow and the fat pink pig. The fox was crafty. He had thought of a way to catch the gingerbread man. While the fat pink pig was still on the road, the fox spoke to the gingerbread man.

"You look like you're in a bit of trouble," he said. "That pig will catch you if you don't get across the river. Do you want some help crossing the river?"

The gingerbread man looked back at the fat pink pig. Then he looked ahead at the wide, wide river. Then he looked at the fox. "Please help me get across," said the gingerbread man. "If I get wet, I'll dissolve!"

"Climb on my tail," said the fox, "and I'll carry you across so you don't get wet."

So the gingerbread man climbed on the fox's tail and the fox got into the river and started swimming. When he was a quarter of the way across, he said, "The water is getting deeper. You don't want to get wet. Climb onto my back where you'll be safe and dry."

The gingerbread man climbed onto the fox's back, and the fox kept swimming. When he was halfway across, he said, "The water is getting even deeper. You don't want to get wet. Climb onto my head where you'll be safe and dry."

The gingerbread man climbed onto the fox's head and the fox kept swimming. When he was three-quarters of the way across, he said, "The water is getting even deeper! You don't want to get wet. Climb onto my nose where you'll be safe and dry."

The gingerbread man climbed onto the fox's nose, and the fox swam the rest of the way to the other bank. The gingerbread man started to climb off the fox's nose. Before he could make it to the tip, the fox flipped him into the air and caught him neatly in his mouth. Snap, snap, snap! He swallowed the gingerbread man in three gulps and went along on his way.

On the other side of the river, the fat pink pig, the big brown and white cow, the pretty milkmaid, the handsome young farmer, the little old man, and the little old woman looked at each other sadly and started to walk home, wondering how the fox had managed to catch that quick and crafty gingerbread man at last.

The End


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